


It Takes a Heap O'Living (to Make a Home)

by rivlee



Series: Live Fast, Die Old [12]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron's having a domestic god or Clark Griswold moment. It depends on who you ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes a Heap O'Living (to Make a Home)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reworking of a line from Edgar A. Guest's _Home_. Thanks to gaygreekgladiator who read this over for me.

“You’re reaching a new level of cheesetastic romance movie stereotype,” Duro said. 

Agron glared down at his brother from where he was trying to fix the string of white lights on the back porch. He had a vision, damn it. It wasn’t just for Valentine’s Day, though he wanted the project finished by then, he just had always wanted the back porch decorated in fairy lights. It was a rare moment when neither he nor Duro were working the store, so Agron had to take advantage when he could. 

“Agron, I know you’re trying your best to live out your own episode of _This Old House_ but I’d rather not get frostbite on my toes because you can’t decide where your fairy lights should go,” Duro continued from his spot holding the ladder.

“Yeah, Clark Griswold, some of us were promised homemade pizza for an hour’s hard labor. It’s been three, I’m cold, unfed, and I’m about to kick your ass,” Donar said.

Agron really needed to invest in better friends. And siblings. And possibly husbands if Nasir’s muffled laughter from inside was anything to go by. 

“It’s good to know I can count on my brother, best friend, and husband for support,” he told them. He placed his last strand of lights and carefully secured them to the roof. He knew he was being a perfectionist asshat about it all, but fuck ‘em. He just wanted it to look nice.

Agron was damn proud of his house. There were shelves built, and carpets laid down, and ceiling fans inside all installed by Agron’s own hands. It was his baby, part of the inheritance that came with the store. Technically speaking it was also Duro’s house, but he gave up that claim in favor of never having to mow a lawn or rake leaves. He’d been worried years ago, when he and Nasir decided to move-in together, he’d have to give it up. Nasir had fallen in love with the house just as much as Agron; he liked to think it had something to do with _Agron_ and not that fact it was a Queen Anne style house with its own rounded tower. Still, now it was a struggle to pry his husband away from his favorite window seat or chair near the fireplace in order to be all social and shit.

Agron climbed down and flipped the switch. He smiled in pleased satisfaction as the whole back yard light up with a warm glow.

“The shit we have to try and match because we know him,” Donar said. “Mira wants a gazebo now.”

“Is she going to make you build it?” Duro asked. “Because Agron built theirs because Nasir was tired of going to the one in the park for writing inspiration.”

Donar slapped the back of Agron’s head. “You are so fucking pathetic. Go get us seem beers before we rearrange your fucking flower boxes.”

Agron flipped him off. “Don’t hate on my flower boxes. They won a friggin’ neighborhood award.”

“Yeah, so did my bakery,” Donar muttered. “And don’t forget to get us food!” 

Agron waved them off as he ran up the steps into the kitchen. The four monsters were waiting for him inside, lined up against the window seat in a row. Kincaid, Mort, Harriet, and Goonie looked pissed that their afternoon entertainment was already over. Agron was used to the cats looking unimpressed by him in general but there was legit evil intent in their eyes this time.

Moose yipped in excitement at seeing him and came skidding across the floor from the living room. Agron patted her head and was glad that at least one person was happy at the sight of him. He looked up to find the cats staring them both down. Moose clearly gave zero fucks as she fit herself through the cat flap to get to Duro in the backyard. 

Agron turned back to the feline firing squad. “Is this because of Moose? Guys, I promise, she’s house trained and she won’t chase you. She’s all about ducks or some shit. Chill out, cats.”

Nasir’s soft laugh sounded behind him.

Agron turned his head. “Yes?”

He walked into the room, bare feet slapping against the tiled floor, and stood up on his tip-toes for a kiss. “Your penchant for talking to our cats as if they are people never gets old.”

“I respect our cats’ intelligence and get rewarded with their hatred. You mock them and get their indifference.”

Nasir grinned. “Unless they want cuddles and then they climb you like the human jungle-gym you are.”

“They learned that from you,” Agron said as he wound his arms around Nasir’s waist and kissed his forehead. “You done with work today?”

“Mm-hmm,” Nasir said as he tugged on one of the buttons of Agron’s shirt. 

He laughed low. “Later.”

“Now,” Nasir argued.

“Duro and Donar might actually kill me if I don’t feed them soon,” Agron said.

Nasir clearly didn’t care. “You’re sweaty, wearing flannel, and these jeans,” he said as one of his hands grabbed Agron’s ass. “They can fucking wait.”

“Fuck,” Agron hissed as Nasir ground their hips together hard. He damn well knew what that did to Agron. “Duro is not even fifty feet away.”

“He’s seen, heard, and done worse,” Nasir said. He bit at the bottom of Agron’s chin before the soothing the bite with a quick lick over the stubble. “I’ll be quiet if you can.”

No he wouldn’t; they were both infuckingcapable of doing that. Nasir would try and Agron’s collarbone would bear a bite mark so deep it would probably bleed. Fuck if that didn’t make him even harder. They were never going to make it up to their third floor bedroom, not when Nasir’s fingers were already scrambling to undo the buttons of Agron’s shirt. 

“Pantry,” Nasir said, guessing Agron’s thoughts.

“Really?”

Nasir nodded as he started to unbuckle Agron’s tool belt. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. It’s untouched territory, the last bastion of rooms, alcoves, and closets where we haven’t fucked around. It was my reward for finishing that fucking manuscript.”

He was done? Nasir had been struggling for months and threatening to take up cat sitting as a career instead. “You’re done?” Agron asked. The last book had ended on a cliff-hanger and Nasir, despite their martial vows, wouldn’t tell Agron shit about what came next. 

“Focus,” Nasir ordered as they stumbled into the pantry, sliding the slat door closed behind them. 

Agron’s tool belt and outer shirt were on the ground a second before Nasir started tugging Agron’s thermal t-shirt off. Agron just stood back and let him have at it. They’d learned the hard way that if they tried this at the same time, someone was going to get hurt, and not in a good way. 

“God your body is not fucking fair,” Nasir said. He swiped his tongue in a pattern tracing through the center of Agron’s pectorals to suck at the dip in his collarbone. It made Agron stumble into the shelf holding the soup cans.

There was a moment of awkward laughter as they waited for a possible avalanche. 

“Other side,” Agron said as he tugged Nasir’s t-shirt off. “Cereal boxes hurt less.”

“We wouldn’t have these problems if you didn’t go all hoarder during super double couple week,” Nasir said. 

“You’ll thank me when we’re hiding in our apocalypse bunker. I’ll be the one with all the tomato soup and Kit-Kats.”

He silenced any further insults by pressing his lips to Nasir’s mouth. The kiss started off soft, small, a tease as they both smiled into it. They didn’t really have time to savor anything; Agron gave it another ten minutes before Duro found them. Nasir realized it too as a hand pressed to the back of Agron’s head and tugged him down in a deeper kiss while his other hand tugged open Agron’s jeans.

“How?” Agron asked. 

Nasir paused just a moment before winding both of his arms around Agron’s neck and leaning up. Agron took a moment to pull Nasir’s sweats off before he helped hoist him up. He guided Nasir’s hips down to grind against Agron’s. That first touch always sent a shock through him, making him still. There was so many ways of getting off but this, the teasing friction, the layers of clothes still between them, always stole Agron’s breath. It made him incapable of speech, all he could do was continue to seek that feel of body against body, the delightful and damning tease of pressure and weight, yet never, ever, enough. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Nasir mouthed into Agron’s neck. His nails were clawed at Agron’s back as he ground down in a rhythm that left Agron keening. 

Agron was using every ounce of strength and endurance he had to keep them up, but his arms and legs were starting to shake from more than just desire. 

“Nasir,” he hissed out in warning.

“Almost, almost,” Nasir said. He shifted his weight to rest it more against the shelves and give himself just the leverage he needed to pull Agron close and hard. 

It was becoming hard to breath in the stale air of the pantry; everything was hot, stuffy, and Agron could feel the sweat pooling in the small of his back. They should stop, they should go somewhere else, but it was so close, almost there. Agron bit hard on Nasir’s bottom lip, the last jolt Nasir needed to come. He clenched at Agron’s skin, hold actually painful, as he started the come down. Agron pressed soft kisses into the messy, loose curls of his hair even as Nasir worked a hand into Agron’s boxers to lazily grip his cock. It didn’t take much, just two loose tugs and Agron came in a shuddering gasp. 

They rested their foreheads together until the shaking stopped. 

“So, do you think we can get to the shower without them noticing?” Nasir asked.

 

**************************

The kitchen smelled of baking dough, pizza sauce, oregano, garlic, and cheese. It was mouth-watering and Agron was once again thankful he took all those cooking lessons from Grandpa. 

“I still can’t believe you two,” Duro said. “Sex in the pantry; so unsanitary.”

“I’ve walked in on you and Auctus in his gallery, don’t even front,” Agron said as he threw a pepperoni at Duro’s head. 

Duro shrugged. “At least it’s not food. Donar, if you have anything to contribute to his conversation, don’t.” 

Donar just grinned and took another sip of his beer. 

Moose wiggled in through the cat flap and brought Duro a baseball she’d found in the backyard. Duro gave her the pepperoni as a reward.

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that, bro,” Agron said.

Duro stuck his tongue out at him. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell me how to raise my dog, bro.” He patted Moose’s head and gave her the ball. “I do kind of wish we had a backyard for Moose. The park’s just not the same.”

“Well, if you ever get the urge to play happy home with attached back yard, just tell Auctus to take you guys up to the mountain house,” Donar said.

Duro looked confused. “Who has a mountain house?”

Donar scoffed. “Auctus, you dumbass. It’s huge. Mira and I always spend at least one week up there.”

“Uh-oh,” Nasir muttered under his breath. “I sense a disturbance in the force.”

Agron grinned down at him. “I love you.”

Duro looked at them all, a mixture of mischief, mutiny, and madness that Agron knew to fear. Poor Auctus; the fucker had it coming though.

“By the grace of god, go I,” Agron said as Duro pulled his phone out. 

When he was younger, a punkass kid full of pain and fury, he never imagined having afternoons like this scene out of Domestic Living 101. Agron kind of lost it after his grandpa’s death. He got into too many fights, found sleep only at the bottom of too many bottles, and then, when waiting in his therapist’s office, he read this article about some upstart college kid who was taking the literary world by storm. He’d written the last name down on his hand. The ink was strong and the name _Zaman_ stayed on his skin for a week even after multiple showers and scrubs. He’d gone out and bought the book that first day but held off until the ink was gone. Then one night, in between the hangover and the next scheduled round of scotch, he’d started it. He didn’t drink that night, too engrossed in the story. Or the next. Or that whole week. 

Now that author stood beside Agron, leaning into him to steal his body heat as they waited for the pizza to cook. His legal name was now _Frei-Zaman_ , just like Agron’s own, even if few people knew that, it was their little secret kept to themselves. Now he still had nights where sleep could only be found at the bottom of the bottle, but they were rare moments rather than the norm. 

Now he was happy, or as close to it as possible, standing in this kitchen with his husband, his best friend, and listening to his brother verbally de-ball his partner over the phone. It was worth it, even if he did have four cats gathered around his feet right now, clawing into his legs in demand for a treat. 

He couldn’t complain too much.

**Author's Note:**

> For those wondering, all the cats are named after characters from Nasir's favorite children's book, except Goonie, who Agron got to name.
> 
> Kincaid is for the Kincaids in _From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler_ ; Harriet from _Harriet the Spy_ and Mort from the _Discworld_ series. Goonie, as the fourth cat and the one Agron was finally allowed to name, comes from _The Goonies_ which was a formative influence on Duro and Agron in this 'verse.


End file.
